a stroke of luck
by MsEstora
Summary: Battle-weary and stranded on some Force-forsaken planet in the Outer Rim, it was fairly reasonable to say that Anakin Skywalker was not having a good week. But sometimes a stroke of luck is in order.


_Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

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This is a one-shot, a short story originally written for an LJ friend's birthday about two years ago. This piece is set during the Clone Wars. I hope you enjoy!

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**a stroke of luck**

Bruised, battered, starving, bleeding, almost certain he had a broken (okay, badly sprained) ankle, and stranded on some Force-forsaken planet in the Outer Rim, it was fairly reasonable to say that Anakin Skywalker was not having a good week.

He didn't even know the planet's name. All he knew was that, one moment he was chasing after Asajj Ventress, and the next he was crashing into a forest. He'd dueled her, of course – gave her a right thrashing too – but she slipped out of his hands _again_, and destroyed what was left of his fighter pilot for good measure.

_Evil, twisted –_

He didn't even have a comlink on him. Perhaps, if Obi-Wan were on the lookout for him, he could try and reach him through the bond and ask for help (as damaging at that would be to his pride, but Obi-Wan was never one for gloating), except Obi-Wan had been caught in a bomb last week and was now in a coma.

Anakin was very worried about him, but with a broken ankle and an aching stomach, a throbbing head and seemingly no hope of rescue, all he could think of was _Damn it, Obi-Wan, why couldn't you have been in a coma some other week?_

He scowled and staggered over a tree root.

_Damn this war. Damn the Separatists. Damn everything._

He didn't even want to sleep. Sleep was a torment, not a release – every time he closed his eyes all he could see was explosions and blood and the bodies of innocents and clones everywhere. He clenched his fist and rested his head against a tree, breathing deeply.

It took a while, but the pricking of tears in his eyes eventually went away.

He kept on walking, half-dragging his useless foot, letting the Force guide him. He didn't fight it, instead listening to his instincts. _My feelings here will not lead me astray_, he thought bitterly. _They can't. I need to get off this planet, I need to go home. I need to go back to Obi-Wan._

_I need to go back to Padme._

Padme. His heart clenched at the thought of her, and urged himself go faster to where the Force led him. _Oh, Padme, please don't listen to the HoloNet, they say I'm dead every month, it's not true._

_Not yet._

Eventually the trees around him became less thick, clearing. He was half asleep, only awake enough to still be aware of his surroundings. His nose picked a familiar scent, one that he knew as intimately as he knew himself.

_Is that… fuel?_

Fuel meant transport which meant people.

_Which means a way home._

He suddenly felt awake again and surged through the trees into a clearing, following the muted sound of voices. It barely occurred to him that they might be enemies – if they were, he could still defend himself and take their transport for himself.

"Hey," he rasped, startling himself with how he sounded. He tried again, shouting louder. "_Hey!_"

He stumbled into the clearing. There _was_ a ship there, ramp lowered, and at its base was a man. At the sound of Anakin's voice, he spun around and raised his blaster, pointing it right at Anakin. "Stop where you are!"

Anakin stopped. Even though he had a lightsaber and could defend himself, he didn't like the idea of drawing it on a stranger, enemy or not. And that, well, that had yet to be determined. He didn't want to spill blood tonight, not now, not after everything…

"Who're you?" the man demanded. He sounded Corellian, it was an unmistakable accent. This gave Anakin hope; the Corellians were no friends of the Separatists. In the dying light Anakin couldn't make out the man's features, only making out that he was rugged. Behind him hovered a smaller figure, one that the man quickly shoved with his free hand up the ship's loading ramp with a hushed order.

Anakin held his arms up, swaying on one foot. "I'm a friend! I swear!"

"That's what they all say, kid. Whaddaya want?"

"I need a lift. I'm stranded here."

The man frowned. "Why should we help you?"

"Look, I'm a Jedi," Anakin said desperately. "I need to get to Coruscant, I haven't got any other way to get off this planet. I've been here for a week and you're the first people I've come across. You help me, and I promise I'll pay you back."

The man was warily silent for a while. "You're a Jedi? Prove it."

Anakin lowered one arm and unclipped his lightsaber from his utility belt. The man snorted.

"That doesn't prove anything. You might've killed a Jedi and taken that from them."

Anakin nearly cursed in frustration. "My name is Anakin Skywalker. I swear, I am a Jedi. I just need a lift back to Coruscant. Or Kamino, or some other Republic planet that's near your way. I won't be any trouble at all and – and – I can pay you back!" he said, sounding pathetically desperate.

Finally the man lowered his blaster. "How're you going to pay me? I don't just give out rides for free, you know."

"I don't have any credits on me, but I'm good with mechanics. I can help with repairs, or…"

"Yeah, so am I and so is my son. We don't need a mechanic."

_Kriff. _He knew how much he was asking of this man, especially in times of war when no-one could be trusted. _But I need to go home. I need to go back to my wife._ "I can pay you back once I get to Coruscant."

"That's what they all say." He sighed and shook his head. "You'd better not bleed all over the place, I just cleaned the ship."

Relief flooded him. "Thank you," Anakin said, and staggered over to him. The man held up his hand, stopping Anakin.

"Uh, uh. You give me that flashy weapon of yours first."

Obi-Wan's voice sounded sharply in his mind: _This weapon is your life!_

Anakin hid a scowl. _Yeah? Well, I can't eat it and I can't fly it home or call someone on it, can I, Master?_

So he handed it over. The man clipped it to his own belt. "If you're really a Jedi, don't try any of that mind-stuff on me. You behave yourself for the trip and I'll give you your lightsaber back. Come on, I have to get off this rock."

Anakin followed him into the ship. It was a dank thing, hardly extravagant, but he sensed it was old and sturdy, trustworthy vessel.

"The name's Han Solo," the man said. "You can take the storage room, there should be a cot in there. I'll send my son back to help you in a sec after I take off."

"Thanks, Mr Solo. I really appreciate –"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get to the storage room and stop bleeding on my floor."

Charming man. Anakin was too exhausted to argue back. He was pointed in the direction of the storage room and quickly sat down on the cot before he passed out. His head throbbed and he rested his head against the cool durasteel as the ship took off. The lurch of hyperspeed followed shortly afterwards.

_Thank Force._

He'd been lucky this time. Very lucky.

_There's no such thing as luck._

He sighed and shook his head, wincing when it throbbed. _Sometimes there is, Obi-Wan._

Anakin sensed an approaching presence and looked up, just as young boy entered the storage room. He looked like his father, similar features – brown hair, a face that would one day make women swoon over him. "Hi," the boy said. "You're the Jedi, right?"

"Yes, I am. I'm Anakin Skywalker. What's your name?"

"Indiana," the boy said quickly just as his father came through to the storage room.

"Junior!" Solo snapped before the boy could answer. Anakin raised an eyebrow as 'Indiana' scowled, turning to face his dad.

"Yes, Dad?"

Solo glanced at Anakin, half-amused. "His name's Han Solo Junior, Junior for short."

"_Daaad_."

Anakin chuckled. "He told me his name was Indiana."

Solo snorted. "That was the dog's name."

"Ha," Anakin breathed as Solo handed his scowling son a medkit.

"Help Skywalker fix up his wounds, I don't want him getting an infection or dropping dead of blood loss. If he's really a Jedi, they won't be happy with me if I drop him off half-dead."

"They won't mind," Anakin said. "It's how I usually turn up at the Temple anyway."

Well, technically it was _Obi-Wan_ who turned up at the Temple like that, usually in Anakin's arms. He held back a laugh, almost feeling sorry for his Master. He always got better – physically, at any rate – but it was a perpetual embarrassment to him…

"They mightn't mind, but I won't get my cut that way either," Solo said. He left swiftly to return to the cockpit, but not before giving Anakin a warning glance: _don't try anything funny or hurt my boy, or I'll throw you out the airlock without a second thought_.

Han Solo Junior waited until his dad was out of earshot. "Are you really Anakin Skywalker?" he asked, eyes wide.

Anakin sighed and cracked his aching shoulders, grabbing a bandage roll from the medkit. "Watch the HoloNews, do you?"

"Sometimes. You're a hero."

How old was young Han Solo? Ten? Eleven? Just a boy, really. Wide eyed and naïve. He reminded Anakin sharply of the young Padawans who died on Jabiim, one by one, and his jaw tightened. "No, I'm not," he said, perhaps a bit too snappishly, but Han didn't seem to notice.

"Sure you are. You and General Kenobi. Why isn't General Kenobi with you? Don't you two usually work together?"

"General Kenobi is back on Coruscant in a coma."

"Jedi can go into comas?"

"As easily as we can die."

This shocked the poor kid. "But you're a Jedi! Jedi don't die."

_What bullshit HoloNews stations have you been listening to, kid?_ Anakin nearly snapped, but stopped, reminded of a similar conversation more than ten years ago in a small house on Tatooine. Another young naïve boy who'd said that no-one could kill a Jedi. Who'd believed that a Jedi had come to free all of the slaves. He sighed and ruffled Han Solo's hair, much to the boy's displeasure, and forced a smile. He'd figure it out himself one day – that Jedi weren't invincible, and that the Jedi were anything but heroes.

"You're all right, Han," he said.

"Indiana," Han muttered.

Solo returned later with a small meal and water. Anakin ate and drank gratefully, and fell to sleep quickly, the week's - or was that years? - exhaustion taking its toll on him.

He dreamed of a man who looked like Han Solo Senior and a pretty woman who looked a bit like Padme, with funny hair buns on the sides of her head. It was a pleasant dream at first, all laughter and adventure, but it soured when the man was tortured by a towering black figure and was taken away from the woman, encased in metal.

Anakin woke up in a cold sweat. He tried to go back to sleep after that, but only saw flashes of the battles he'd been in. Asajj Ventress's lightsaber, slashing at his face and scarring him. Dooku, sneering as he sliced through his arm. Obi-Wan in Ventress's captivity, straining against the Sith Mask and being force-fed maggots. Padme, screaming in pain, crying for him. His mother, shattering like glass.

Han Solo Jr. visited him again once to bring him some more food. After that, Anakin managed to sleep, and this time he dreamed of a medal ceremony, the pretty woman smiling at the other man who winked at her, and next to them a boy with blond hair and blue eyes.

It was a nice dream, he thought wistfully when he woke up, only a few hours now from Coruscant. He just wished he could have more of them.

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When they touched down on Coruscant, at the Jedi Temple, he managed to foist the bill of his trip onto the Jedi. They paid Solo, slightly disapproving about this but otherwise pleased to see he was alive after all. _Force forbid their precious Chosen One dies._

He estimated a few hours in the healer's wing, getting fussed over by Vokara Che. It would give him time to recover enough and visit Obi-Wan before slipping out and seeing Padme.

Before he was hauled away to the Halls of Healing, Anakin turned to Han – who had broken away from his father – and smiled at him. Good kid. "Maybe I'll see you again one day, Han," he said. It was an innocent lie; he doubted very much he'd ever see young Han Solo again, but it'd give the boy something to talk about to his friends. "You take care of yourself."

Han Solo's grin stayed with him for the rest of the day.


End file.
